


you're my rugged heart

by silvergalaxy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergalaxy/pseuds/silvergalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall isn’t sure exactly when sneaking out of the Ravenclaw common room past curfew to kiss Harry in secluded hallways or on the deserted grounds became A Thing, but what he does know is that he wouldn’t give it up for the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my rugged heart

**Author's Note:**

> the harry potter series is my lifelong love so writing a niall x harry hp!au seemed like an obvious choice. if you’re even slightly familiar with the harry potter universe everything should be pretty self explanatory!
> 
> huge thanks to my wonderful beta andrea/jamesniall who read over this for me at a moment’s notice!
> 
> written for the darling iva/niallslaugh as a birthday fic [that should have been finished months ago]
> 
> title is taken from phillip phillip’s “gone, gone, gone”

Niall is still laughing about the howler Payne received at breakfast as he’s leaving the Great Hall, his neck tie hanging loose around his throat. It’s raining this morning, wind and water rattling against the windows as students hurried past in groups, making their way to their first class of the morning.

Niall’s not all too bothered about arriving to Herbology on time, if he’s being honest. Professor Sprout simply adores him, something to do with the fact that he’s never killed a plant in the greenhouse yet. He figures being a minute or two late won’t hurt, so he takes his time and walks at a more comfortable pace through the ancient castle, smiles genuinely at the chattering paintings around him. In his haste to get to the Great Hall this morning in time to nab his favourite seat from Eoghan, he’d forgotten to take along his umbrella, and he was now left in a bit of a predicament. He decides against walking without it, he’d never been awfully good at drying charms. Instead, he slips his wand out of his robe pocket - rowan wood with unicorn hair core. Niall remembers the day his wand picked him with surprising clarity, the excitement of the day so great it was almost tangible. He remembers the way he destroyed the linen closet with it when he got back to their little house, and the way Maura scolded him gently before starting to teach him a few easy spells. Seven years later, Niall has his wand motions mastered. Top of the class, McGonagall tells him frequently, never failing to make him preen under the older woman’s kind words.

“Accio,” he mutters, and waits for the telltale cries of surprised first years as a jet black umbrella zooms over their heads, swerving sharply around the marble corners until it reaches Niall, slowing down as he snatches it up.

Opening it, Niall takes the time to bid good morning to The Grey Lady, as she floats down the near deserted hall.

The walk down to the greenhouse is less than pleasant, with the bitter wind and sharp rain pelting against his sides, but at least his hair stayed dry. He can see the Whomping Willow thrashing in the distance, flocks of birds crying overhead as the dart away from the reaching branches.

Sprout doesn’t reprimand him out loud as he enters the classroom, but he does get the stink eye. He offers a sheepish smile before he takes his usual seat next to Harry.

Harry Styles is possibly Professor Sprout’s most hated student, not due to lack of manners (which he truly has too much of) but because of his less than average gracefulness in the greenhouse, and his track record with knocking over rows of newly planted flowers.

That same clumsiness is not, however, transferred to the Quidditch pitch, where Harry shines as one of Hufflepuff’s trusty chasers. Niall has played against him for the past five years, free and happy on his broomstick, comfortable with the quaffle tucked safely under his blue sleeve. Up there, his bum knee can’t keep him from flying along with the rest. There he’s fast and swift and talented, the roaring cheers from his fellow classmates encouraging him to fly faster, dodge quicker. It’s his passion and his pride and his joy all wrapped up in one, he can’t thank magic enough for offering him an alternative to Muggle football.

It’s not only playing the game that he loves so much, he has posters plastering his section of the dormitory of his team, the Kenmare Kestrels. Niall’s met a few of the players before, and they were really nice and full of tips on how Niall could improve on his skills. Harry likes poking fun at their lack of wins as of late, and Niall seeks revenge by placing temporary Silencing Charms on him.

Usually Niall leaves the common room in the morning then meets up with Harry in the Great Hall, but seeing as they had Herbology together as their first class of the day, Harry took it upon himself to get up early and arrive to class in time to help set up for the lesson in an attempt to get into Sprout’s good graces.

(“Fat chance,” Niall had told him with a laugh. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do to make up for all the trauma you’ve caused the woman.” It was a Tuesday, which meant it was Harry’s turn to sit with Niall at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall. Niall’s fellow housemates were used to seeing Harry welcome himself to their table and their common room in past years, and hardly blinked an eye as he situated himself next to Niall, stealing a pastry from an annoyed looking fourth year on his other side. 

“I’d like you to shut up for once, Niall,” Harry had remarked snarkily, but there was a warmth and a look of determination in his eyes as he threw a rain coat across his shoulders. “Professor Sprout’s gonna love me by the end of today.”)

Niall isn’t surprised to see Harry sulking at his seat, mud smeared over the heels of his otherwise shiny shoes. His hair was sleek, soft looking, and Niall stamps down the urge to reach out and stroke it. There’d be time for that later, Niall hopes. There are empty pots in front of everyone, and a clearly disgruntled Sprout at the head of the room, her normally curly hair even more frazzled looking than usual.

“Today, we’ll be repotting some Mandrakes. Now, I know,” she says, when the grumbling begins. “This is usually a job for beginners. However, this morning there was an accident in the greenhouse and the pots have been cracked, and they’ll need attention immediately. Get to it. And Styles, I think you’ll be better off watching today.”

Niall nearly chokes on his laughter, hands pressed against his lips, attempting to prevent the laughs trying to escape him. “What’d you _do_?” he cackles, eyes crinkled with joy as he imagines all the antics Harry could’ve gotten to in the past twenty minutes.

“Nothing,” Harry sighs, but obediently keeps his gloved fingers away from the screeching Mandrake in Niall’s palms. Their required earmuffs block out the majority of the shrieks which fill the silence of the room in no time. 

“You menace,” Niall grins, hitting his shoulder amicably as he sets to work, Harry looking hilariously disappointed as he watches Niall carefully situate the Mandrake back into a fresh pot of soil, it’s cries slowly dying out.

When Herbology is over, he’s practically jogging back to the castle, umbrella held protectively over himself when Harry catches up to him. 

“Jesus, Niall, slow it down would you? I’m getting wet,” he says. Niall immediately shuffles sideways, allowing room for Harry to squeeze under with him. Niall can easily feel the warmth radiating from Harry’s slightly taller body despite the freezing rain around them, and casually leans in to his side. When Harry looks down to give him a slightly inquisitive look, Niall merely shrugs, causing Harry to knock gently into him. 

“You’re warm,” he reasons, averting his eyes and looking forward to the castle looming in the distance. “C’mon, would you? I’ve got Astronomy next and it’s really fucking interesting, I don’t want to miss anything new.” Niall had received an Outstanding on his Astronomy O.W.L, and his interest in the stars has only increased since then. He’s pulled Harry outside multiple times on the warmest of summer nights and pointed out all of his favourite constellations, which had caused Harry to groan at first, too tired to be exploring the grounds. That was, until he had seen the way Niall’s eyes lit up as he explained the stars movements and how Bobby had promised to send him a telescope for Christmas, despite their families ever present financial struggles. 

So Harry speeds up his pace for Niall’s sake, never wanting to deny him any simple pleasure. As simple as a N.E.W.T level class gets, he supposes.

 

________________________________________________________

 

Niall isn’t sure exactly when sneaking out of the Ravenclaw common room past curfew to kiss Harry in secluded hallways or on the deserted grounds became A Thing, but what he does know is that he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Harry’s lips are always warm and sweet, his hands wandering and careful. They’re on a tiny stairwell in the North Tower tonight, sitting nearly on top of one another. It’s not Niall’s favourite place, if he’s being honest. The last time they were up here Sir Cadogan, the towers resident portrait, had started screaming about intruders, causing panic in the staffroom and a hasty escape made by Niall and Harry back to their dormitories, hushed goodbyes whispered between giggles and kisses.

“Hmm,” Niall hums happily as he plays with Harry’s curls near the nape of his neck. It’s awfully warm for September, and Niall’s cheeks are flushed with a mixture of the heat and the way Harry’s mouth is moving against his.

Harry smirks at Niall’s noises of approval, nipping gently at Niall’s lower lip. Niall lets his hands slide down to rest at the curves of Harry’s waist, the only thing separating him from Harry’s sunkissed skin being the ridiculous sweatshirt he knitted for himself over the summer. He wishes he could pull off the lumpy fabric right here, but he knows logically that someone could appear at any moment, see him and Harry plastered all over one another. It’s thrilling, sneaking around their friends, outsmarting the professors who patrol the halls at night, actively searching out students who might be up to mischief. At the same time, Niall hopes desperately for a time when hiding this won’t be necessary, when he and Harry can hold hands and kiss in the company of others. 

Niall has quite the hurdle to jump over before that happens. First, he needs to actually get past the friends with benefits stage with the younger boy. He knows Harry is interested, there’s no doubt about that, with the way he stares at Niall when he thinks Niall can’t see him and prolongs any type of physical contact they have. A simple high five turns into intertwined fingertips whenever Harry has anything to do with it, and what should be short hugs turn into five minute embraces, Niall’s head tucked securely under Harry’s chin. Niall can’t say he minds very much. The thing is, though Harry is indeed overly affectionate as of late, he also fails to stop flirting with other classmates, which frustrates Niall to no end. Here Niall is, searching for Harry’s sweet attention, while Harry rambles on to Zayn about his latest conquests with an older Hufflepuff girl he’s been talking about for a while. Niall knows it’s all for show, Harry hasn’t been interested in birds ever, so he says at least, and when it comes down to it, Niall has no reason not to believe him. That doesn’t mean the talk doesn’t annoy him.

So Niall settles for secret meetups and quiet kisses, wandering hands and muffled giggles in dark hallways throughout the castle and under looming trees near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It’ll do for now. It has to.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

Niall is halfway through an overly complicated essay for Potions about Golpalott’s Third Law when Harry shows up in the library, knapsack slung carelessly across his shoulders, wand in hand. Niall’s statements make no sense no matter how many times he rewrites them, so Harry’s sudden appearance is a much welcomed distraction from his disaster of a paper.

“Hey,” Harry sing songs, squeezing next to Niall at the already crowded table, a few peers frowning intently at him when he fails to lower his voice. “Hogsmeade this weekend, bro. You still up for going to Tomes and Scrolls?” he asks with a wink, and earns himself an eyeroll from Niall and curious looks from the other eavesdropping students scattered along the table. Tomes and Scrolls is one of the oldest shops still standing in Hogsmeade, a dusty bookstore built in 1768 with a severe lack of customers and a guarantee of peace and quiet for the pair.

“Sure,” Niall says after a moment, leaves the conversation at that as he begins to pack up his notes, carefully removing his quill from the inkwell in the old wooden desk. It would be unfair to stay and distract the others by talking obnoxiously with Harry, and he knows he’s doomed for this essay either way. What he truly wants is to stay at the castle with Harry instead of going out, maybe stay in their dorm room by themselves with no chance of being caught for once while everyone else leaves the castle for the afternoon. He’s not sure how to bring that up though, thinks maybe he’ll grow the courage at some point between now and Saturday morning and mention it to Harry as casually as he possibly can.

The conversation could end up being a complete disaster or a huge success and a step in the right direction of where Niall wants to take this thing with Harry, and the words are niggling at the back of his mind. Instead of saying his thoughts out loud, he lets Harry lead him out of the library and into the wide stone hall, his palm stretched across Niall’s right shoulder, his grip comfortable and casual and Niall has to remind himself that turning his head and kissing Harry would be very much inappropriate right now, with the gaggle of young Gryffindor girls trailing behind them in the corridor.

“Where’re we headed to?” Niall asks Harry with a grin and a wink, making Harry’s cheeks warm up.

“You’ll see. You can probably guess, if I’m honest,” Harry says. They turn off into another corridor, the loud noises of the group behind them ebbing away as they slip into a comfortable silence, the only noise being the obnoxious swishing of their robes.

Niall can guess. He supposes one of two things - they’re going to meet up with the lads beside the kitchens to nick some food, or they’re off to one of their usual meeting spots. He’s secretly hoping for the latter.

“How many guesses do I get?” Niall snickers lightly, sneakily latching onto Harry’s hand.

Harry pretends to think. “Depends on how many times you’re planning to kiss me once we get there.”

Niall flushes and snorts, and Harry smiles like he’s terribly proud of himself. Tightening his fingers around Harry’s, Niall begins to name all of the past spaces they’ve snuck away to.

“Classroom eleven?” Niall starts, and Harry shakes his head. “Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” Niall cringes while saying it, and Harry chuckles heartily.

“Never again,” He promises.

Niall goes on to say the Astronomy Tower, the Trophy Room, the Prefects Bathroom, and every other place they’ve been together, including even the Dungeons, and receives a “no” from Harry each time.

Huffing, he slows their walk so they’re hardly moving down the small hallway. “Then where? Is there anywhere else we can even go?”

“Of course there is,” Harry responds in a tone that makes Niall feel as though he’s up to something. His eyes are glinting in the warm glow of the overhead lamps, his smile wide and goofy. He begins to pull Niall into the Entrance Hall, and Niall feels slightly lost. Surely Harry isn’t going to suggest they kiss in front of every passing person. He then veers to the side, and the pair begin to descend down a steep, cramped staircase.

“I thought you said we weren’t going to the dungeons,” Niall rolls his eyes. The last time they ventured down there for a secret meetup, Harry had reacted badly to the copious amounts of dust and wound up sneezing on Niall, something he likes to pretend never happened and something Niall likes to tease him endlessly about.

Harry simply smiles, his cheeks heating at the memory. “You’ll see.”

Niall gets even more confused when he realizes the end of the staircase leads to the same hallway where the kitchen is, and he struggles to hide his disappointed face when Harry looks to gauge his reaction thus far.

“I thought we were spending time together, just me and you…” Niall trails off, waiting for Zayn or Liam or Louis to show up.

“We are,” Harry laughs.

“Us and the house elves don’t count, mate,” Niall points out, angling his body so he’s mostly turned into Harry’s chest, a look so mopey adorning his face that it’d be funny if he wasn’t so put out. As much as he does love the house elves - they give him extra food and he gives them presents his mum sends from back home - he’s had his heart set on getting to kiss his boy for the majority of the day. _His boy_ , he realizes the words he thought too late, a twisty though not totally unwelcome feeling rising in his chest.

“Stop jumping to conclusions,” Harry laughs gently, spinning Niall around and guiding him to a strange pile of barrels lined against the old stone wall. “And close your eyes,” he adds hastily, and Niall complies, feels Harry pressed up against his back as he leans forward, tapping out an odd pattern on what sounded like the wood of one of the many barrels. Niall hears a distinct opening noise, and then the majority of Harry’s body weight disappears from his back.

“Open ‘em,” he says excitedly, and Niall blinks into focus, immediately noticing the front of a barrel has swung open into a tiny entrance way.

“Uh,” Niall says, not particularly knowing what to do next.

“Well, go on,” Harry says, his hands coming to a rest on Niall’s slim hips, holding on as Niall ducks through the little doorway into what must be the Hufflepuff Common room. “Quick now,” Harry half laughs, half whispers.

“Isn’t this going against a thousand years of Hufflepuff tradition?” Niall laughs somewhat nervously as he draws the glares of Harry’s fellow housemates. The room itself is extremely pleasant, with windows looking out on a sunny field, giving the room a warm glow. Plants line the walls, and soft looking chairs are placed haphazardly throughout the room. Niall can easily imagine Harry spending time in the comfortable space, studying and laughing with his friends late into the evening. Niall desperately wishes at times to have been placed in the same house as Harry, but knows realistically that there’s nothing to be done about it now, and that he fits in Ravenclaw better than he truly ever could here, as nice as it seems.

“Sorta,” Harry mumbles, sending a few bashful smiles to the nosy girls whose icy glares followed them all the way to the round door that Niall assumes leads to Harry’s dormitory. His _dormitory_. Niall can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face.

Harry’s room isn’t much different than Niall’s, when it comes down to it. The four poster beds are still there, only clad in soft looking patchwork quilts of gold and black rather than the sky blue silk Niall is used to sleeping on in his windy tower.

“Oh,” Niall breathes out as Harry ushers him over to the edge of the mattress, sitting them both down. Niall runs his fingers over the woven fabric, taking the room in. It appears that Harry’s roommates have all left, leaving them with blissful peace and privacy. “This is nice,” he compliments, arm gesturing around the room.

“I may have tidied up a bit,” Harry confesses with a shy grin. “Didn’t want your first impression to be a shit one, you know?”

Niall hums in appreciation, tilting his head to the side to meet Harry’s eyes. Carefully, he raises a hand to Harry’s cheek, dipping his face down so he can reach his mouth with ease. The initial kiss is soft and chaste, and Niall pulls back, immediately wanting more. Harry’s hands have found comfort on his lower back, fingers smoothing over the wrinkles on Niall’s robes.

Harry’s face is warm to the touch, cupped tenderly in Niall’s sure hands. His mouth is even warmer, lips making their way away from Niall’s to deliver a line of sloppy kisses across Niall’s freshly shaven jaw. There’s a ray of sunshine sneaking under the heavy curtain and into Niall’s line of vision, casting a silvery light around Harry’s wild hair. And it’s quiet, so quiet here on Harry’s bed, and Niall feels so safe and comfortable, wants to do this more, wants to never stop doing it.

When he feels Harry’s knee nudge his thighs apart, he complies quickly, and scoots farther up the bed so that his back is now resting against Harry’s wooden headboard. Harry moves with him, lifting himself up over Niall so his face is hovering a few inches away, and Niall’s eyes follow the shapes his lips make as he speaks.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He says, and Niall garbles out a quick response, because of course he can, it’s hardly necessary to ask, and he tells Harry so. “Just making sure,” he murmurs with a grin, and Niall is already shucking off the sleeves of his robes so Harry can have easier access to the buttons on his dress shirt.

His fingers are fumbling, slightly shaky, and Niall covers them sweetly with his own. Harry smiles and ducks in for a kiss, and when he pulls away Niall finds himself chasing the taste of his mouth.

“Get back here,” he groans playfully, tugging at the collar of Harry’s shirt to reel him back in. Harry just laughs, popping open the last button and sliding the light fabric down Niall’s arms, which to his absolute mortification, have begun to flush. He can only imagine how tinted red his cheeks, and even his chest must be by now.

“So impatient,” Harry says, but he leans back down over Niall anyways, brown curls strung out and flopping over his forehead. Niall reaches up, brushes them back with his right hand as their lips meet once more, slow and hot. Their breathing has turned ragged, the only sound Niall can hear besides the frantic beating of his heart. Harry’s arms leave his side for a moment to haul his shirt off, and the distinct sound of fabric stretching can be heard as it squeezes over his head without any of the buttons un-hapsed. Niall has seen Harry’s tattoos before, while swimming in the summers and after going out for a one on one game of Quidditch in the change rooms, but he’s never had the opportunity to admire them like he has the chance to now in the privacy of Harry’s dormitory. Niall shifts so that his leg is bent at the knee, Harry’s own legs straddling his small thigh.

Niall reaches out, places his hand (and even they are a turned on pink, for Christ’s sake) on top of Harry’s biggest, and dumbest, tattoo, a huge butterfly, proudly displayed on the centre of his defined chest. He traces the outline, then sweeps upwards to his shoulders and down his arms, and back up again. All the while Harry doesn’t stop kissing him, and along with the rolling of his hips against Niall’s front, Niall is left breathless. He pulls away, lips shiny wet.

Niall’s heart is thumping, and if the quick rise and fall of Harry’s chest beneath his fingertips is any indication, his is too. It’s everything Niall’s been wanting for who the fuck knows how long, and he’s going to relish it.

Harry’s brow is furrowed, and his eyelashes look glossy where they’re touching lightly across the top of his upper cheek. If Niall’s honest with himself, he looks a bit funny, but also undeniably beautiful in that moment of quiet intimacy. There’s a feeling in his stomach, swooping and not particularly pleasant, but his smile is so wide and obnoxious that it was clearly obvious he was over the moon about being here with Harry.

“Gonna get the rest of my kit off?” Niall prompts, and he tries to sound smart about it, except that he can tell by the way Harry’s warm stare meets his that he sounded a little less than confident.

“Yeah I just-” Harry breaks off, lifting himself up and off of Niall. He walks towards the door, a considerable bulge in the front of his pants that couldn’t be comfortable. He then switches the latch on the door so that it was locked. Not that it would be able to keep anyone with a wand out, Niall thinks to himself and laughs at Harry’s antics, which were surely due to the fact that he grew up in a muggle home. Harry returns to the bed with a grin on his face and pops the button on his pants. He kneels down, his knees sinking into the soft mattress, the blanked rumpled where Niall’s feet have shifted it around.

“Good idea, that,” Niall teases, his head tilting towards the door. “No one can interrupt us now.”

“Shut it,” Harry says fondly, his hands working on getting Niall’s pants undone. Niall lifts his hips to make the process easier, and the material slips off his nimble hips, almost taking his boxers with them. “Just wanna give the illusion of some sort of privacy.”

“My hero,” Niall banters back with a practiced ease, his cheeks numb with happiness.

Harry is pulling Niall’s pants off from where they’re twisted around his ankles now, his fingertips warm on Niall’s legs. Harry smirks up at him before suddenly digging his thumb into the sole of Niall’s foot, tickling wildly. Niall’s immediate reaction is to kick out, his foot spasming as he narrowly misses kicking Harry in the chin.

“Watch it,” Harry shrieks, flailing backwards, the motion having him nearly falling off the bed onto the cold floor. Niall cackles fondly, bends down to grab Harry’s hand and pull him back until he hit Niall’s chest, the warm feeling of skin on skin leaving Niall feeling restless about what’s to come. 

“Flip over,” he murmurs, waits as Harry complies so that Niall is on top of him, resting between his open thighs.

The room is getting darker as the sun sinks deeper into the evening sky, but Niall can see Harry’s eyes, wide and bright, staring down at him in wonder.

“You sure?” Harry asks lowly, as Niall drops a flurry of kisses right over Harry’s left hip bone, fingers deftly undoing the button of Harry’s dress pants, sliding over his obvious bulge.

And what a stupid question that is, Niall thinks, because of course he’s sure, he’s more than sure. Everything with Harry is sweet and amazing and beyond anything Niall could ever dream of, and he wishes he could somehow explain that to Harry without sounding like a complete fool in love. Which, he supposes, is exactly what he is.

“Of course,” Niall says genuinely, his voice strained. He’s still undoing Harry’s pants, sliding them over his tensed thighs and down past his ankles. Niall tilts his head up once more, his lips gliding gently over the pink marks already showing up on Harry’s hips, a happy gleam in his eyes.

“You look good,” Niall tells him, his hand cupping Harry through the cotton of his boxers. Harry smiles, his throat too choked up to do anything else, his hand still a comforting presence on Niall’s neck as Niall delivers warm kisses across his pelvis.

Niall can feel his own heart thumping erratically against his ribcage, hopes his fingers aren’t shaking as much as he thinks they are right now. He wants this, wants this so much, has thought about it for weeks. But there’s the nagging thought floating around in the back of his mind that he’s going to make a fool of himself, that Harry might laugh at him. He thinks he knows what he’s doing, knows the initial concept of how this is supposed to go down, how he is supposed to go down on Harry. Slowly, his eases Harry’s boxers down, dragging them carefully past his cock and leaving him fully exposed.

Harry lets out a low groan as the first breath of air touches him, hips canting forward. Still at the same slow pace, Niall tentatively wraps his lips around the head of Harry’s dick, letting his tongue swirl teasingly over Harry’s slit. With the pleased noises that Harry emits egging him on, Niall sinks his mouth lower on his shaft, his left hand moving deftly over the rest with a practiced ease. As he works Harry steadily to the edge with the combined forces of his mouth and hand, he pulls off momentarily.

He takes a brief moment to look over Harry, his flushed cheeks and bright eyes, tensed stomach and open mouth. He looks spectacular, nothing short of what Niall had imagined many nights alone in his bed. He feels unbelievably lucky, and proud that he’s been able to work Harry up to this point.

“You good?” He asks, manages to get his hand on himself for a moment, readjusting his dick in his boxers, discreetly, not wanting to show how hard he’s gotten from sucking Harry off.

“Mmm,” Harry half-mumbles, half-groans. “Close,” he says, bucking upwards into Niall’s other hand.

“Good,” Niall grins, tightening his loosened grip slightly and beginning a steady motion over Harry’s flushed dick. Scooting upwards so the pair are chest to chest, Niall cups Harry’s cheek in his palm, placing kiss after kiss upon his mouth. Harry’s lips are pink, and Niall imagines his own look ridiculous at this point, all wet and red. He’s about to say something when he feels Harry’s mouth go slack against his, coming suddenly and surprisingly quietly into Niall’s hand. Niall continues with the kiss, but after a second he removes his hand, and for lack of options, wipes Harry’s mess on Harry’s discarded shirt.

“You’re awful,” Harry whines when he realizes what Niall’s done, but despite his sleepy limbs he manages to turn the pair onto their sides, situating them so that Niall’s back his pressed against his front. His hand creeps over Niall’s waist, long fingers toying with his boxers until Niall complains.

“I’m awful, honestly. Take them off, Harry,” he says, squirming as the cold air of the room finally hits him, and squirming even more when Harry gets a hand around him, gentle hands pulling along his cock. Niall lets out a low breath at the feeling, tilting his head back in an attempt to reach Harry’s mouth. Harry seems to realize what he’s doing, and leans in to capture Niall’s lips in a heady kiss, tongue insistent against Niall’s. It’s an uncomfortable position, if Niall’s honest, his neck is starting to cramp quite a bit. The feel of Harry’s mouth against his own is worth it though, and he figures he can pull through for another minute or so. At this rate, he can’t imagine himself lasting any longer than that. He’s been wanting and waiting for this moment to happen for the better part of three years, and now that it’s here and better than he could’ve ever dreamed of, he feels beyond overwhelmed and happy.

Harry’s pace hasn’t slowed, and Niall can feel the muscles in his stomach tightening in anticipation, his lips leaving Harry’s in favour of muffling the sounds he began to make into Harry’s pillow. He moans into the fabric, his right hand reaching behind him to twine his fingers with Harry’s tan ones as he lets go, spilling onto his stomach.

Harry hums, and Niall feels soft kisses being pressed against his sweaty neckline. Harry reaches over and takes the already ruined white shirt to wipe away the remnants of Niall’s orgasm from his chest before flicking it into a pile of laundry near the door.

A pleasant silence descends over them, as Harry nuzzles his face into the crook of Niall’s shoulder, his limp curls tickling Niall’s ear.

“That was nice,” Harry says oh-so politely, and Niall is sent into a fit of laughter, rolling over in Harry’s embrace to smack him lightly on the chest. He’d be offended if he didn’t know Harry better, if he didn’t know this was his prefered way of expressing his feelings.

“I’m honoured, truly. Thank you for your kind words, I’ll never forget your compliments,” he says dryly, snuggling closer so that he’s able to reach back up and place a gentle kiss to Harry’s jaw.

“I do mean it,” Harry offers, smiling down at him. “Everything with you is nice, Niall,” he says simply. Niall flushes at the open sincerity of Harry’s words. He doesn’t know exactly how to reply without sounding ridiculous, so he chooses to keep quiet and let himself relax in the comfort of Harry’s arms.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

They do end up going to Hogsmeade that weekend instead of staying holed up in the castle, but instead of heading to their usual dusty corner in Tomes and Scrolls, Harry surprises Niall by redirecting their path towards The Three Broomsticks, pulling him inside with their intertwined hands between them.

Niall barely has time to adjust from the brightness of fresh snow to the darkness of the well known pub before Harry’s pulled him into an easy kiss in front of a table of their fellow schoolmates. Gaping, Niall blushes a bright red, and hopes it will pass off as being from the cold, and not from being kissed by his not-so-secret boyfriend in a busy public establishment with a dozen of their friends and acquaintances watching.

A few of the girls at the table let out a collective _aww_ , and a boy Niall’s barely spoke to in his life grumbles something that sounded very much like _about time_. Spluttering past them, he and Harry head left and manage to find Zayn, Liam and Louis near the back, the noise from the front of the pub reduced to a dull buzzing noise, mostly blocked by a separating wall.

Harry still hasn’t released Niall’s cold fingers from his gloved grip, and the trio’s eyes are immediately drawn to their grasp. Zayn tilts his head and smiles kindly up at them as Louis and Liam share a high five, eyes alight with happiness. Niall waves at them, and situates himself so that he’s sitting comfortably next to Zayn with enough room on his other side for Harry. He’s about to ask what the seemingly celebratory high five was for when he feels the now familiar touch of Harry’s chapped lips against his cheek. Niall freezes in his seat as Liam’s grin grows even more.

“I was wondering when you guys would finally stop dancing around of each other,” he remarks. Harry huffs and Niall rolls his eyes, and they share a look with one another.

Leaning in so that he can whisper in Harry’s ear, Niall says, “Knew they’d act like this,” and Harry nods his head in agreement, curls bobbing under the knit hat Niall’s mum sent him for Christmas a few years back.

“Secrets already, too,” Louis says teasingly. At that moment a worker breezes by, and with a flick of her wand there are two more glasses at the table to add to the three half empty ones that had been there before the couple’s arrival.

“Can’t have just anyone hearing about our plans for world domination, can we now?” Niall says, smile blinding as he reaches out and brings his butterbeer to his mouth, the drink bringing a welcomed warmth to his numb face.

“That’s conversation material for boyfriends only, clearly.” Harry adds with finality, and Niall manages to swallow the mouthful before he chokes on the laugh that’s bubbling up in his throat.

Leaning contently into Harry’s warm side, surrounded by his favourite people in the world, he can’t imagine any other place he’d want to be.


End file.
